


The Ink of Our Souls

by watcherofworlds



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fake Character Death, Peggy Carter as Captain America, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: Everyone in the world has marks that ink themselves on their skin like tattoos during different points in their lives, marks that are meant to lead them to their soulmate. The longer they go without meeting the person who the universe has decided they are meant to be with, the more marks they have. Everyone approaches the concept of soulmates differently- some spend their whole lives looking, some don't bother looking at all, some have pledged themselves to the single life until they meet their soulmate, and still others are waiting for their soulmate but have no qualms about being romantically involved with other people before that time. Peggy Carter is part of the latter group. She believes that one day she will meet her soulmate, but she sees no reason to remain alone and celibate in the meantime. In truth, she had almost given up on ever finding her soulmate- she's nearing her thirties, and they have yet to appear. That is, until the day she meets Steve Rogers at one of Howard Stark's parties and everything changes.





	1. A Rude Awakening

Peggy’s phone went off, blaring a particularly loud, brassy rendition of ‘Hail to the Chief’. Howard’s ringtone, which he had set and she had yet to figure out how to change. Groaning, she fumbled around on her nightstand until her fingers brushed the familiar smooth rectangle.

“Howard, it's three in the bloody morning,” she snapped, lifting her phone to her ear. “What the hell do you want?” Beside her, Nathan, the latest in a long list of romantic partners, stirred.

“Come back to bed Peg,” he murmured, slipping an arm around her waist and planting a kiss on the soulmate mark on her shoulder blade.

“I can’t” Peggy replied, reluctantly shrugging him off. “I have to deal with Howard.” Nathan sighed heavily, and Peggy felt the mattress shift as he settled down and drifted back off to sleep. On the phone, Howard said, “Jeez, Peg, there’s no need to bite my head off. I just wanted- _Oh man, you’re going to hate me for this_ \- to invite you to a party.”

“You called me at three am,” Peggy said carefully in an attempt to keep the volume of her voice under control, mindful of Nathan sleeping beside her, “to invite me to a _party_?”

“A very fancy party,” Howard said defensively, as if that excused it. “With lots of important people.”

“Is this one of those diplomatic parties the Council makes you do, or is this an attempt to drum up more clients for Stark Industries?” Peggy asked tiredly.

“A little of both,” Howard admitted. “Besides that, there’s going to be someone there that I want you to meet.” Peggy sighed.

“When?” she asked, trying and failing not to snap.

“Friday night,” Howard replied in a wounded tone. “And don’t worry about what you’re going to wear. I’ll have Ana pick something out for you.” This statement was accompanied by another sigh on Peggy’s part. Howard did this every time he invited her to one of his parties, and it had happened enough times that by now she was used to it, but she still wished that just once Howard would trust her to dress herself for a party.

“All right,” she said. “I assume Mr. Jarvis will be picking me up?”

“Of course,” Howard said. “You know the drill.”

“Great!” Peggy said, mock cheerful. “Now may I be allowed to go back to bed? _Some_ of us need to maintain a normal sleep schedule, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Howard said, either not hearing the sarcasm in her voice or choosing to ignore it. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Peggy replied, jabbing the “End call” button with perhaps slightly  more force than was necessary.  She dropped her phone back on her nightstand and settled down next to Nathan with a sigh, falling quickly into the deep embrace of sleep.


	2. Fate's Unwitting Helper

Standing in front of his bedroom mirror, trying to tie his tie with numb, shaky fingers, Steve caught a glimpse of Bucky passing by in the hallway.

“For fuck’s sake, Steve,” he said a moment later, leaning into the room. “Are you still trying to tie your tie? It’s not like this is a black tie event. You don’t need some fancy knot. A Windsor should be fine.” He paused. In the mirror, Steve saw his expression fold into an irritated scowl.

“You know that, don’t you?” he asked. Steve didn’t answer.

“You’re stalling,” Bucky said. This time, it wasn’t a question.

“I really don’t think I should go, Buck,” Steve said quietly.

“Come  _ on _ Steve,” Bucky replied. “We talked about this. You can’t just skip out on an invitation from Howard Stark.”

“Why not?” Steve asked. “It’s not like he’d even notice that I wasn’t there.”

“Because you made a commitment when you accepted the invitation in the first place,” Bucky replied, exasperated. “Besides, if he  _ does _ notice that you’re absent, that’ll reflect poorly on you. You don’t want people to think that you’re the sort of person who skips out on social engagements without a word of explanation, do you?” He had Steve there- he was the sort of person who prided himself on always being polite and respectful, no matter what the situation or who he was interacting with. He would hate for Howard Stark’s other party guests, or- God forbid- Howard Stark himself, to think him rude.

“No, but-” Steve began

“Then why are we still having this conversation?” Bucky cut in before he could finish his thought. “Now hurry up and finish getting ready so we can go.” Steve sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“You know I don’t do very well at social events,” he said, his voice dull.

“Just hang around on the edge of the group like you always do,” Bucky offered in response. Steve shook his head.

“It’s not just that that’s got me feeling apprehensive about this,” he mumbled.

“Then what else is it?” Bucky asked. The irritated, impatient edge had left his voice. He’d known Steve long enough to recognize the signs that he was feeling genuinely troubled.

“I’ve only worn a suit one other time in my entire life…” Steve said, his voice still quiet, trailing off into silence. Bucky huffed, not in exasperation, but in sympathy.

“That’s what’s troubling you?” he asked.

“I know it doesn’t make any sense-” Steve started to answer.

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky interjected. “I get it, Steve. I do. But...you do know that not  _ every _ occasion where you have to wear a suit is a sad one, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “But…” He waved a hand in a circle around his head.

“You get wrapped up in your head sometimes,” Bucky finished for him. “I know. It’s fine. Just as long as you understand.” In the reflection in the mirror, he saw Steve nod once, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“There you go,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just lighten up a little. We’re going to a party, not a funeral. Nobody’s dead tonight, and nobody’s going to die. I promise, you’ll have so much fun that by the end of the night you’ll have forgotten that you didn’t want to come.” Steve chuckled.

“Sure, Buck,” he said skeptically, following him out of the room.

“No, I’m serious!” Bucky said excitedly, an unusual state for him. He was much more cheerful now that Steve’s mood seemed to have improved. “And who knows? Maybe this time you’ll loosen up enough to actually talk to a girl for once.” Steve scoffed quietly to show just how likely he thought  _ that _ was, but otherwise didn’t respond to the statement. It never hurt to let Bucky dream.


	3. A Meeting of Souls

On any other night, Peggy would have had no problem rubbing elbows with the rich and the powerful. On any other night, she would have felt as comfortable in an evening gown as she did in tac gear. But not tonight. Tonight she could feel every pair of eyes in the room on her as she did her best to mingle and pretend that nothing was wrong. Tonight she swore she could feel her soulmate marks burning on her skin like brands. Therein, she thought, lay the problem. Howard had, most likely intentionally, had Ana Jarvis pick out a dress for her that exposed every single one of her soulmate marks- the Brooklyn skyline on her right shoulder blade, the howling wolf on her collarbone, the stylized wing on her left shoulder. It wasn’t as if nobody had ever seen all of them at once before, of course, but it had always one person, in a private, intimate moment, revealing them by the gradual removal of clothing. She had never been out in public with all of them exposed like this. She had never felt more uncomfortable in her life. She was almost glad when Howard appeared out of the crowd and put a hand on her arm to get her attention. Almost. Considering his track record so far, his presence more than likely signified more trouble for her. 

“What do you want Howard?” she asked. Her voice sounded tense and irritated, even to her. She didn’t care. She wanted Howard to know what a nuisance he was being.

“Come on,” Howard responded, tugging at her arm, trying to pull her away from the crowd. His voice was eager, like a child with a new toy. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Do we have to do this  _ now _ ?” Peggy asked, remembering that the whole reason Howard had invited her to this party in the first place was because he wanted her to meet someone. She just hadn’t thought that would happen right this instant.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Howard insisted, this time yanking on her arm and managing to pull her away from the crowd with a strength that surprised her. He led her down long, echoey corridors, their shoes striking the floor the only sound in the stillness. They stopped in front of a door that was surprisingly plain, considering its surroundings.

“Wait here,” Howard said, opening the door and beckoning toward the room beyond it. “I’ll send the person I want you to meet along shortly.” He stepped past Peggy and disappeared down the hallway. She shook her head in confusion and stepped through the door that Howard had left open. Closing it behind her, she found herself in one of Howard’s guest bedrooms, one of the smaller ones by the look of it. She sighed and sat down on the bed to wait for  _ whoever _ it was that Howard wanted her to meet. Brushing her hand absently back and forth across the comforter, she started canvassing the room, noting possible exits- the door, the window open to the night air- and hiding places- the wardrobe in the corner, behind the shower curtain in the adjoining bathroom, under the bed on which she sat- as was her habit. 

After several long moments, the faint sounds of the party filtering into the room drew Peggy’s attention back to the door, just in time to see a man she recognized as the famous Captain Rogers stepping through it. The second she laid eyes on him, the soulmate mark on her right shoulder blade-her first one-started stinging. In the same instant, Rogers hissed in pain and clutched his left wrist.

“Are you alright?” he asked, apparently noticing what Peggy had thought was a subtle enough shift of discomfort to not  _ be _ noticed.

“Yes, I...I’m fine,” Peggy replied, managing to talk around the queasy feeling in her stomach. “You?”

“I’m okay,” Rogers said, settling into the straight, careful stance that one might expect of a soldier, except that it was a little  _ too _ careful, almost as if he had another shield besides the one that had made him famous. 

For a long time, neither of them said a word. Rogers hovered near the door like he was afraid to step farther into the room. Finally, Peggy gathered her courage and spoke.

“May I-” Her throat went dry, cutting off her words. She swallowed nervously and tried again. “May I see it?” Rogers lifted his left wrist slightly, as if to ask  _ This? _ Peggy nodded. Rogers let go of his wrist, slowly and gradually, lifting one finger off of it at a time, and beckoned her over. She crossed the room to meet him, feeling more unsure than she’d ever felt of anything before. 

_ Everyone talks about meeting your soulmate _ , she thought,  _ but no one talks about what you’re supposed to  _ do  _ when you meet them.  _

Shaking her head, she shoved aside her doubts and worries-or tried to- and took Rogers’ wrist gently in her hands. She removed his cufflink with practiced ease and, having no table or nightstand nearby on which to put it- there  _ was _ a nightstand in the room, but it was next to the far side of the bed and nowhere near  them- stooped and set it on the floor. When she straightened back up, she found Rogers watching her, studying her with careful, unwavering scrutiny, which might have been unsettling had his eyes not been so warm and gentle.

Peggy tore her eyes from Rogers’ and set about rolling up the cuff of his sleeve to get a good look at the soulmate mark on his wrist. At one point, she heard his breath hitch when her fingers brushed his bare skin. She pulled his sleeve cuff back the last few inches and there it was, looking for all appearances like a tattoo but rendered in minute, delicate detail that no human tattoo artist could hope to produce- thorny vines and roses, curling around the sides of his wrist and disappearing from sight. Peggy could only assume that they went all the way around. 

“Steve,” she breathed, his first name slipping from her tongue as if it had been waiting her whole life to speak it. She didn’t finish the thought. She found no other words were forthcoming.

“Peggy,” Steve said, in a  voice as soft as the look in his eyes as he watched her. “May I see your mark?” He didn’t specify which one. He didn’t have to. Peggy answered him by turning her back, baring the soulmate mark on her shoulder blade to his scrutiny. She felt him trace a finger over it, his touch leaving a tingling sensation in its wake, crackling like a static charge. Her breath caught.

“Steve,” she said, turning to face him again, her voice no more than a whisper. Whatever else she might have said died in her throat because he was suddenly so  _ close _ , much closer than he’d been a moment ago.  She realized that he was still drifting toward her, and her toward him, the pull of them toward each other as inevitable as that of two magnets. When they finally met in the middle-just for a moment- the world stopped. They broke apart, breath echoing in the space between them, fanning across each other’s faces as each waited for the other to make the next move. 

The second time they came together, it was like a collision, Peggy’s mouth slamming into Steve’s with enough force to knock him backwards a step. He recovered quickly, his warm, strong hands sliding down her sides to settle at her waist. Peggy fisted her hands in the lapels of Steve’s  suit jacket, pulling him forward and deepening the kiss. Somehow they ended up on the bed, their legs tangling together, Steve propped up on his elbows above her so as to avoid crushing her beneath him. Her heart racing, Peggy found herself reaching up to curl her fingers in Steve’s sand colored hair, just to remind herself that this was real, that  _ he _ was real. Steve moaned and kissed her harder in response to the gesture.

Breathless, Peggy lost herself in the moment, in a million different feelings and sensations, converging and conflicting and leaving her thoughts scattered like dust in a strong wind. She pulled back for a moment to release her hair from its tight bun at the top of her head, sending it cascading down to her shoulders. Steve kissed her again then, a forceful, bruising kiss, and wrapped his hands in her hair. Peggy kissed him back with a renewed frenzy that surprised her.  Her hands moved, seemingly of their own accord, to shove Steve’s suit jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it without pulling away, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. They fell backwards until Peggy’s head hit the pillow behind her, breaking apart suddenly on impact, both of them breathing hard. Steve’s eyes gazed deep into hers. He had very pretty eyes, she noticed distractedly, blue and grey intermixed, the color of the sky on a partly cloudy day. There was even, she realized upon closer study, a little bit of green in them. 

“Peggy,” Steve said breathlessly, his face flushed as if with exertion. “I...I think I love you.” Peggy could feel a smile spread across her face at those words. 

“I think I love you too,” she replied. She wrapped her hand around his tie and pulled him in for another kiss, one long and deep and languid. She tugged on his tie until it came unknotted, but didn’t take it off, instead leaving it to hang loose around his collar. It was when she reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt that she suddenly came to her senses, the adrenaline induced fog in her brain clearing in an instant.

“Steve, wait,” she said, bracing her hands against his shoulders and pushing him back.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice filled with worry.

“We... we should stop,” Peggy managed between gasps for breath. She felt like she’d just run a marathon. “We just...met...ten minutes ago. I don’t want us to...do something we might end up regretting.”

“You’re right,” Steve said, but he leaned down to kiss her again. She let him. The temptation to make herself a liar was almost overwhelming. “We just met”- He kissed her a second time- “It wouldn’t be right”- And then a third.

“ _ Steve _ ,” Peggy implored, pushing him back again. “I’m  _ serious _ .”

“So am I,” Steve replied, his voice thick, but he didn’t try to kiss her again. Instead, he remained where he was, studying her intently.

“All right,” he said at last, sitting back on his heels. “That’s fine. I understand.”

“Really?” Peggy asked, sitting up. “You’re not mad?” Steve’s face softened with concern.

“What kind of men have you been with that you were afraid I’d be mad if you said no?” he asked. Peggy laughed humorlessly.

“Let’s just say quite a few who didn’t know how to take know for an answer,” she said. “Or, when they did, didn’t know how to take it very well.” She doesn’t tell him, because it isn’t the right time, about the man who attacked her on her way home on day because she’d refused to give him her number, about what he might have done to her had her brother not happened along still haunted her sleep some nights.

“Oh Peggy,” Steve breathed, and she knew he’d spotted the long jagged scar on the outside of her left leg, where her attacker had slashed with a knife to try and impede her escape. “I’m so sorry.” He reached out and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch like a cat, her eyes drifting closed. For a few moments it was silent but for the sound of their breathing.

“It’s getting late,” Steve said, breaking the quiet. “We should probably go to bed.” Peggy felt him pull his hand away from her face, her eyes fluttering open at the absence of his touch. She swung her legs off the bed and leaned down to take off her shoes, setting them side by side on the floor. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of Steve gathering up his suit jacket and cufflink from the floor, then heard the tramp of his shoes on the hardwood floor as he crossed the room to set his cufflink on the nightstand. By the time she straightened up he was standing in front of the wardrobe, and she decided she’d better give him some privacy. Settling down in the bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin and lay on her side so that she was facing the door, but Steve was out of her view. A few moments later, she heard the nearly inaudible  _ click _ of a light switch, and the room went dark. She heard the pad of bare feet on hardwood, a quiet clanking sound that she couldn’t quite place, and then the rustle of sheets as Steve climbed into the bed beside her. She felt his arms wrap around her and she stiffened.

“Sorry,” he whispered, pulling away. “I should have asked if you were okay with that.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she whispered back, reaching for him blindly in the darkness. “You just...startled me, that’s all.”

“Oh,” he replied. “Well, in that case…” Trailing off, he pulled her close to him again, his arms curling loosely around her waist. 

“Goodnight Peggy,” he said softly, planting a kiss on the side of her neck. Peggy had never considered herself a narcissist, but she loved the sound of her own name when it was spoken like that, full of love and heavy with contentment. She lay awake for a while after Steve fell asleep, listening to the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, before she too drifted off.


	4. Day of Discovery

Peggy woke to find that she’d drifted away from Steve during the night, though she was still close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him like a furnace. Steve himself had rolled over onto his side so that his back was to her, and she saw that he had a soulmate mark between his shoulder blades- a union jack, rendered as though it were rippling in a breeze.

_ Well, _ that’s  _ a little on the nose _ , she thought, reaching out to trace a finger over it. Steve stirred at her touch but didn’t wake. The smile spreading across her face vanished in an instant as she became aware of another presence in the room. She sat up to find Jarvis standing at the foot of the bed, a pile of folded clothes in his arms.

“Mr. Jarvis!” Peggy cried, reaching for the sheets to cover herself, before realizing two things in the exact same moment- one, that they were tangled around her and Steve’s legs, and two, that she was fully clothed.

“Mr. Stark asked me to bring you these,” Jarvis said, gesturing with the clothes in his arms, an upturning of his mouth at the corners his only response to Peggy’s reaction to his presence. “Though I must admit, I believe he rather expected the two of you to be considerably less clothed.”

“Oh  _ bloody hell _ ,” Peggy grumbled, getting out of bed to take the clothes from Jarvis. “I can’t believe him. Just because  _ he  _ slept with his soulmate the night they met doesn’t mean we all do.”

“Yes well,” Jarvis said, in the carefully neutral tone he  always adopted when he spoke of his employer’s antics. “You know how he is.”

“Unfortunately,” Peggy muttered. Jarvis smiled and left without another word. Steve stirred at the sound of the door closing.

“Peggy?” he asked, sitting up and blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Howard had Mr. Jarvis bring us a change of clothes,” Peggy replied, gesturing with the file of folded fabric in her arms. She looked down and began the task of sorting the clothes, stifling a laugh when she glanced up to see Steve not so gracefully attempting to extriacate himself from the sheets tangled around his legs. He managed to make it across the room to her without stumbling  _ too _ much, and she handed him his clothes from the pile before retreating to the bathroom to change. She emerged a few minutes later with her dress draped over her arm to find Steve seated on the bed, one leg folded underneath him and the other hanging over the edge. He was dressed in a grey T-shirt and sweatpants identical to her own, except larger. 

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said, rising from the bed. Before Peggy had time to protest, he was taking her dress from her and hanging it carefully in the wardrobe, then easing the door shut. That done, he leaned sideways with his shoulder against the wardrobe and smiled at her, one of the gentlest smiles she had ever seen.

“Well,” Peggy said, Steve’s smile sending her stomach flip flopping, making her feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Let’s see if we can’t hunt down some breakfast, shall we?” Taking Steve’s hand in hers, she led him down broad, straight corridors, in the direction she remembered the kitchen being. She had been to Howard’s house often enough times to remember the general area it was in, if not its exact location.

When they finally found what they were looking for, they found it empty, silent, and still, as though it were a room that hadn’t been used in years. Peggy supposed that it didn’t get much day to day use- Howard often got so wrapped up in his work that he forgot to eat, which she knew worried Jarvis immensely, as it was a habit that was likely to be unhealthy if it continued.

“He doesn’t have cereal,” Steve grumbled, rummaging through the cupboards behind her. “What kind of a person doesn’t have cereal?”

“The kind of person whose butler does their shopping for them,” Peggy replied. “Jarvis tries to avoid processed food whenever possible.”

“Well, I hope Stark realizes what he’s missing out on,” Steve said, moving on to the fridge. “Processed food is  _ delicious _ .” Peggy laughed quietly and set about boiling water for tea. She caught flashes of motion in the periphery of her vision as Steve made himself busy, apparently with making breakfast. Before long, the kitchen was filled with the hiss of the gas stovetop, the gurgle of the coffee maker, and the delicious smell of frying bacon.

“What are you making?” Peggy asked, impatiently waiting for the kettle to get a move on.

“Omelettes and bacon for two,” Steve replied. “And coffee for one, since I would guess by the fact that you turned the kettle on that you don’t drink it.”

“I do if there’s nothing else available,” Peggy supplied, “but you’re right. I much prefer tea. That’s very perceptive of you.”

“I wouldn’t have made it it this far if I hadn’t learned to be perceptive,” Steve said noncommittally. Peggy still had her back to him, but somehow she knew that he’d shrugged.

“Really?” she asked, turning to face him. “Tell me about that.” 

“There’s really not that much to tell,” Steve said with another shrug, his gaze fixed on the stove in front of him. “I got into fights a lot as a kid, and eventually I had to learn to be smart if I wanted to avoid getting the shit beaten out of me, not that that ever worked. I had to learn to watch and listen, to know when I might still be able to get out of a situation unscathed and when I had pushed it to the point that a fight had become inevitable. That’s really all there is to it.” Peggy nodded in understanding but otherwise didn’t respond. She watched as he shoved a spatula under the omelettes in the pan and flipped them onto plates, first one, then the other. There was a quiet grace in Steve’s every move, the sense of power loosely coiled, ready to spring into use at a moment’s notice. Peggy wondered if she might see it in action someday. Her tea done, she slid into the chair across the table from Steve and set about adding cream and sugar- which he’d been kind enough to set out- to it. It was silent in the kitchen as the two of them enjoyed their breakfasts in quiet companionship. Bored, Peggy dipped her fingers into Steve’s glass and flicked orange juice at him. He responded by tossing a pinch of sugar from the sugar bowl at her, and the next thing she knew they were chasing each other around the table, tossing bits of food back and forth and giggling like children. They collided with each other, and then suddenly they were kissing, deeply, tenderly, passionately, Peggy’s arms wrapped around Steve, Steve’s fingers tangled in her hair.

The song “Lean on Me” started playing from out of nowhere, startling them apart. Steve swore in a language Peggy was sure wasn’t English and fished his phone- the source of the sound- out of his pocket.

“Hey Bucky,” he said, lifting it to his ear. “Listen, before you go off on me, just let me explain. I didn’t come home last night because I- yes, I know I should have told you that I wasn’t, but everything happened too fast, there wasn’t time- Will you just be quiet and listen for a sec? I didn’t come home last night because I met my soulmate.” A long, awkward silence ensued.

“It’s...uh, it’s, it’s Peggy Carter,” Steve finally said, clearly responding to a query from the person on the other end. “Yeah, the famous Agent Carter. The English Rose. Uh-huh. No, I’m not shitting you. Yeah, alright. See you later, Buck. Bye.”

“So, I’m ‘the famous Agent Carter’, am I?” Peggy asked as Steve slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Come on,” Steve replied, with that sideways smirk that was already becoming familiar. “You can’t seriously tell me you didn’t know. Even Fury can barely stop himself from singing your praises, and we both know how rare praise from him can be.”

“Well,” Peggy said, “I suppose I  _ knew _ , I just didn’t pay attention. After all, I didn’t join SHIELD for the praise.” Steve hummed agreement and set about cleaning up the mess they’d made. When he finally sat down to finish his breakfast, it was with a heavy sigh,slumping back in his chair, all the tension going out of his long, lean frame. Despite his loose, relaxed posture, he seemed disquieted.

“Hey,” Peggy said quietly, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Steve replied as if he were emerging from a daze. “I just...get wrapped up in my head sometimes, that’s all.” “It’ll pass,” he assured her a moment later, as an afterthought. 

“Well, that’s a relief,” Peggy said with a smile, one that Steve only barely returned. He finished his breakfast in a distracted, mechanical manner, then rose from the table, collected the plates and utensils and took them over to the sink. Peggy watched him do the dishes while she finished her tea, noting with particular interest the way the muscles of his back and shoulders moved beneath the fabric of his shirt as he worked.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” she said, getting up from her seat and reaching around him to put her empty mug in the sink. “That’s what Mr. Jarvis is for.”

“No sense giving him extra work,” he replied. “I’m sure he’s already got his hands full dealing with Stark on a daily basis.”

“That he does,” Peggy agreed. “Howard is a like an overgrown child sometimes, honestly.” With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist and rested her cheek against his back.

“Mmm,” she mumbled. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Me too,” Steve said. She could hear the smile in his voice, and was glad that his dark mood seemed to have passed. Behind them, someone cleared their throat, breaking them apart. They turned to find Jarvis standing in the kitchen doorway, looking uncomfortable.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Mr. Stark has just asked me to inform you that he wished for you to spend the remainder of the weekend here. He’ll arrange for transportation for the two of you to your respective homes on Monday morning.” Out of the corner of her eye, Peggy saw Steve grin at the news. She’d be hard pressed to say that she was too upset about it herself.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” she said. “Please tell Howard that we’re grateful for his hospitality.”

“Of course,” Jarvis said, with just the barest dip of his head. He retreated from the doorway, leaving them alone again. Steve turned and pressed a kiss to her lips, quick and tender, then went back to doing the dishes. Peggy set about rinsing the dishes he’d already washed and putting them in the drying rack, and she stood there, side by side with Steve, the two of them working in tandem, she couldn’t escape the feeling that this was where she was meant to be.

Later, as they lay in bed in the room they’d woken up in that morning, having retreated there at the end of the day, Peggy with her head on Steve’s chest, Steve running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair, it occurred to her that this was the happiest she could remember being in a very long time.

“Steve?” she asked.

“Yeah?” Steve replied, his voice a lazy drawl.

“Did you ever imagine it would happen like this?” Steve chuckled.

“Meeting my soulmate?” he asked. “Not even close. I always imagined something much more dramatic, but you know what? I prefer it this way. I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Me either,” Peggy agreed. “This is perfect.” Steve sighed.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with an emotion that Peggy couldn’t quite identify. “Absolutely perfect.” He lapsed into silence, and neither of them spoke for a long time. The room was quiet and still.

“I love you,” Peggy said after a while, surprising herself with how deeply she felt it, considering she had only known Steve for a day.

“Love you too Peg,” Steve murmured in reply, his fingers stilling in their motion through her hair. As they drifted off to sleep, Peggy would have been willing to swear that she could feel the bond between them growing stronger with every passing moment.


	5. The Consequences of a Soulmate

Steve was woken by “The End of All Things” playing loudly next to his ear. Peggy’s phone, which she had placed on the nightstand next to his when they’d gone to bed the night before, was going off.

“Hello?” he asked sleepily, answering it.

“Who the hell is this?” growled an angry male voice on the other end. It woke Steve up in an instant. “Where the hell is Peggy?”

“This is Steve,” Steve replied carefully, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t actually answered the man’s question. “Peggy’s sleeping.”

“Well, put her on the phone!” the man snapped. “I need to talk to her.” Peggy stirred, apparently disturbed by all of the noise.

“Steve?” she asked, lifting her head from his chest. “What’s going on?”

“There’s an angry man on the phone demanding to speak to you,” Steve replied, gesturing with the phone in question.

“Shit,” Peggy swore, startling Steve with the vehemence in her voice. “Give it to me.” Steve handed it over wordlessly, studying her face, but she had arranged it into a carefully neutral expression that gave nothing away.

“Hey Nathan,” Peggy said in a honeyed tone. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” the person to whom she was speaking shouted, loud enough for Steve to hear, making her wince and pull the phone away from her ear. “You’ve been gone for two days without a goddamn word! Last I heard, you were going to some party at Stark’s house, but that was Friday night, and now it’s Sunday morning and you still haven’t been home. What the hell is going on?” Peggy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please calm down, Nathan,” she said. “I can’t explain anything if you’re shouting.” Steve didn’t hear Nathan’s reply. 

“Listen,” Peggy said after a moment. “I didn’t come home on Friday night because I met my soulmate.”

“Yes, I know I should have told you, but you didn’t let me finish,” she continued, after a brief pause. “Damn it Nathan, you aren’t listening to me!” She got up from the bed and started pacing back and forth, trying to explain the events of the past few days to Nathan. From her end of the conversation, it sounded like he wasn’t letting her get a word in edgewise. A note of distress crept into her voice, and Steve decided he’d better give her some privacy. He didn’t want to make what was clearly an uncomfortable situation even more so. With one last glance back at Peggy, he slipped quietly through the bedroom door and closed it carefully behind him.

Wandering through the house, he eventually came across what appeared to be a little used living room and sat down on the single loveseat occupying the space, which let out a puff of dust like an exhale. Idly, he pulled his notebook out of his pocket and started to draw. He didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing, but he didn’t have to- there was only one thing on his mind. After a while, he heard footsteps, and Peggy appeared in the doorway. He slipped his notebook back into his pocket when he saw her.

“Hey,” he said gently. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but didn’t dare. There was something about the way she was holding herself that worried him. It was as if all the fight had gone out of her, and he was afraid that if he pushed her, even a little, she would simply fall apart. 

Peggy dropped down onto the loveseat beside Steve with a sigh and leaned against his side, resting her head against his shoulder.

“He broke up with me,” she said softly. Steve didn’t have to ask who “he” was. “I mean, I guess I should have expected it, but-” She cut herself off with a half hearted shrug. Silence stretched between them. Finally, Steve worked up the courage to ask “Are you okay?” Peggy’s response was another shrug.

“Not really,” she said, “but I’m sure I will be, soon.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Steve asked. 

“You can take care of this,” Peggy replied, handing him her phone. “It just seems like a cruel joke now.” Steve saw what she meant the second he looked at the screen- she had Nathan’s contact information pulled up, and he could see why the ringtone she had set for him might seem like a cruel joke in light of recent events.

“I think I know just the thing,” Steve said. He selected “Edit contact”, changed the relevant information, and handed Peggy’s phone back to her. 

“You didn’t change the ringtone,” she remarked, her mouth turning up at the corners, just slightly.

“Think of it as a promise,” Steve said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “The universe made us for each other. Who am I to argue with that?” After a moment, he added, “To be honest, I would have fallen in love with you even if you weren’t my soulmate.”

“You are such a sap!” Peggy said, laughing, her voice warm with affection.

“Comes with the territory of being an artist,” Steve countered with a smile.

“Is that what you do for a living?” Peggy asked. “In between SHIELD missions, I mean?”

“Kind of,” Steve said. “I’m an art teacher.” Peggy nodded. She hadn’t moved her head from Steve’s shoulder, not that he seemed to mind that.

“Do you teach adults or kids?” she asked.

“Kids,” Steve replied. “High school kids, specifically.”

“Well, there are worse day jobs,” Peggy said, as a way of making conversation.

“True,” Steve agreed, “but it can be frustrating sometimes. There’s always those students who have zero confidence in their artistic ability because somewhere along the line someone put the thought in their heads that they can’t be any good without talent, or who are convinced that you  _ have _ to be good at art to make it. I’m trying to teach them that that’s not the truth, but I don’t know if it’s getting through.” He sighed. Peggy entwined her fingers with his and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“At least you’re trying,” she said soothingly. “That’s all that really matters, in the end.” 

“Thanks Peg,” Steve said with a soft smile.

“Anytime,” Peggy replied. They lapsed into silence. Not for the first time-and, she suspected, not the last, Peggy found herself drawn into and mesmerized by Steve’s gentle blue eyed gaze.

A mechanical sounding bell tone jolted her from her trance. Steve pulled his phone from his pocket, his eyebrows creasing together as he read whatever was on the screen.

“I’m being called in,” he said in response to Peggy’s questioning glance. He started to dial as he rose from the loveseat.

“Talk to me Buck,” he said, lifting it to his ear as he stood fully upright. He was silent for a minute, listening to the person on the other end.

“All right,” he said. “Have you been briefed by Fury yet?” Another pause. 

“Okay. Inform the Commandos that haven’t been already, and meet me at headquarters. I’m on my way.” Hanging up, he turned to Peggy, his phone held loosely in his upturned palm.

“I’m really sorry Peg,” he said. “I hate to run out on you like this, but”- He shrugged- “Duty calls.”

“It’s alright,” Peggy replied. “I understand.”

“I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Steve said, and there was something else in his promise, something fervent, an implication that he meant that he’d come back not just from this mission but every mission after, for the rest of their lives. The force of that promise made Peggy gasp.

“Steve,” she said, her tone pleading, trying to get him to stop for a second and talk. Steve shook his head vigorously, and Peggy felt a flash of anxiety that seemed to come out of nowhere and vanish just as quickly.

“No time,” Steve said, though how he knew what Peggy wanted when she hadn’t actually spoken it out loud was beyond her. “They’re expecting me at headquarters, and I need to go now.” He leaned down to give her a kiss goodbye.

“Love you,” he said, then disappeared through the doorway. Peggy stared at the space where he’d been for a long time, an all too familiar feeling of nervousness settling in the pit of her stomach. She knew too well what SHIELD missions entailed and how dangerous they could be, and she could only hope that nothing would go awry and Steve would indeed come back as he had promised he would.


	6. Interlude One- Brooklyn Skyline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of several planned interludes into the main story detailing some of the backstory behind Steve and Peggy's soulmate marks.
> 
> This interlude concerns the formation of Peggy's first soulmate mark. She is eleven years old in this interlude, and Michael is fourteen.

Peggy gasped and sat bolt upright in bed. It felt like someone was dragging a red hot steel rod over the skin on her right shoulder blade. Curiously, she could almost discern a pattern to it, up across down across up, like an Etch-a-Sketch drawing. The pain sharpened for a split second, making her cry out. In the bed across the room from Peggy’s, her brother, Michael, stirred in his sleep. 

“Peggy?” he asked, blinking awake. “What’s going on? Are you alright?” Peggy shook her head, despite knowing that he couldn’t actually see the gesture in the pitch dark of their room.

“I feel like someone is drawing on my skin with a hot poker,” she said, her jaw clenched so hard that she had to force the words out. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it really hurts.”

“Oh Peggy,” Michael sighed, “you’re getting your first soulmate mark. Didn’t Mum and Dad tell you this would happen?”

“They told me,” Peggy replied, “but they didn’t tell me it would  _ hurt _ .” Michael sighed a second time. A moment later, Peggy heard the muffled thud of feet hitting carpet, then the soft pad of barefoot steps as her brother crossed the room to the window. If she squinted, she could just make him out, a human shaped shadow, black on black.

Michael threw open the curtains, flooding the room in bright silver-white moonlight. Peggy narrowed her eyes against the sudden increase in illumination.

“Let me see,” Michael said softly, edging himself onto the foot of her bed, one leg folded underneath him. Peggy couldn’t tell if his voice was quiet out of concern for her or out of a desire to avoid waking their parents, who were sleeping peacefully in their room down the hall. She turned, carefully so as not to get her sheets tangled around herself, so that her back was to Michael, affording him a view of the source of her pain, pain apparently caused by the formation of a soulmate mark. By this time it had shrunk to a dull ache, though a very insistent one. Michael clicked his tongue, something he always did when thinking.

“Looks like it’s almost finished,” he said. There was a pause, presumably while he studied the mark, trying to determine what it was. “It looks like a skyline, though which city’s I don’t know. Certainly not one I’m familiar with. I guess we’ll have to figure that out in the morning.” He patted Peggy’s shoulder gently, perhaps mindful of aggravating the pain in her shoulder blade, but he needn’t have bothered. It had faded away completely in the time he’d been talking, leaving her with a curious tingling sensation that she was sure would be gone by morning. 

Michael nodded once, apparently satisfied with the course of action he’d decided on, and and slid off the end of Peggy’s bed. He closed the curtains with a  _ swish _ , plunging the room into pitch darkness once more. Peggy heard him cross the room, followed a moment later by the creak of bedsprings and the rustle of sheets as he climbed back into his bed. Peggy herself layed back down in her own bed, turning to face the wall and pulling her covers over her head. She was impatient to get to sleep, as she was eager for daylight and the opportunity to find out what her soulmate mark might signify, but perhaps she was a little  _ too _ impatient, as it was many hours before her racing thoughts slowed enough to allow her to finally drift off to sleep.


	7. A New Part of Life

Steve rubbed his left wrist subconsciously. Since the weekend he’d spent with Peggy, the soulmate mark there had felt oddly sensitive, and tingled constantly, like pins and needles. Sitting alone in the teacher’s lounge, trying to enjoy a cup of coffee before the school day started, he could only hope that it wouldn’t distract him when he was trying to teach.

Out in the hallway, the school bell rang, the sound muffled-but only slightly-by the closed door of the teacher’s lounge. Steve sighed. Gulping down the last of his coffee, he stood and made his way out into the hallway, blending seamlessly into the crush of students on their way to class. People were always surprised by how easily he was able to slip into crowds- they didn’t expect someone as big as he was to be able to fit into such small spaces- but he would just shrug it off and, if they were someone familiar with his whole history, remind them that he hadn’t always been the way he was now, and fitting into crowds was a skill he’d perfected before he’d become big.

Reaching his classroom, he stopped short, prompting muttered curses, ones they probably thought he couldn’t hear, from the people behind him. He sighed, unlocked his classroom door, and went inside. He sat down heavily in his desk chair, causing the top of a precariously piled stack of art projects to be graded to slide off onto his desk. He was in the middle of straightening the stack back up when his phone dinged.

_ Heard you were back from your mission _ , read the text message on the screen.  _ Missed you! _ Steve smiled in spite of himself.

_ I missed you too, _ he wrote.  _ Maybe we could meet up after I get off work? _ He sent the text, then waited anxiously for the reply. It came a moment later.

_ I would love that _ , it read.  _ What time? _

_ Around 2:45 _ , Steve wrote back.  _ Meet me at the Midtown Science High School subway station. _

_ The school you teach at has its own subway station? _ Steve could see Peggy’s raised eyebrow in his mind’s eye as he read her text, which made him laugh out loud.

_ Hey, don’t look at me _ , he wrote. _ I didn’t build it. _

_ You’re hilarious, you are _ , Peggy replied. There was a distinctly teasing tone to her message.  _ I have to go now, but I’ll talk to you later. _

_ Later _ , Steve wrote. By this time, the warning bell had rung and students were beginning to file into his class. He put his phone on silent and set it aside, ready to face the day. After taking attendance, he left his students to work on their individual projects, occasionally circulating the room to offer advice or encouragement.

By the end of the school day, after seven class periods of trying his best to teach his students to love art, Steve felt both exhausted and energized at the same time. He couldn’t wait to see Peggy. He reached the subway station and there she was waiting for him, dressed in a meticulously tailored business suit and heels, her dark brown curls perfectly arranged, looking as beautiful as she had the day he’d met her. He was sure she always would. 

“I only have an hour,” she said when Steve reached her. “I’m on my lunch break right now.” 

“That’s alright,” Steve replied. “I’ll take whatever I can get.” Peggy laughed at that, a clear bright sound like the ringing of a bell. It filled Steve’s heart with joy.

“So,um…” he said hesitantly. “D’you want to meet my parents?”

“Now?” Peggy asked, raising an eyebrow. “We only just met six days ago, Steve. Isn’t that moving a little fast?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve agreed. He could feel his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment that he’d even suggested it. “Let’s just go get something to eat.” He slung an arm around Peggy’s shoulders and pulled her close to him, and they waited for the subway crowded close together like two teenagers in their first relationship, unable to keep out of each other’s personal space.

“You know,” Peggy said about twenty minutes later, leaning against the wall next to Steve’s door while he unlocked it, “when you said ‘let’s go get something to eat’, and I wasn’t expecting you to bring me to your apartment.”

“What can I say?” Steve replied with a shrug, opening his door. “I remembered that I have leftover chili in the fridge.” “Bucky makes a mean pot of chili,” he added a moment later. “He got the recipe from his mother.” Peggy laughed as she followed Steve into his apartment. Steve watched her take it all in- the tiny bookshelves sagging under the weight of more books than they were designed to hold, the worn couch, the framed photograph of his father on the rickety coffee table- and suddenly felt ashamed of it all.

“I know it’s not much,” he began “but-”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Peggy interrupted. “It’s lovely. Really.” She moved toward the bookcase on the far side of the room, and Steve’s gut twisted when he realized that she’d spotted his mother’s engagement ring, which was sitting on top of it, next to a drawing of her that Bucky had had framed for him.

“No Peggy, please don’t-” Steve said, rushing across the room to put himself between her and the bookcase when she reached for it. He slammed into the bookcase that he sent it rocking back against the wall with a  _ thump _ , followed by another as it settled back into place. Peggy froze with her hand in the air, eyes wide with surprise.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

“Please don’t touch that,” Steve said, breathless.

“What is it?” Peggy asked, slowly, finally, pulling her hand back.

“It’s my...mother’s engagement ring,” Steve said, his hesitation having nothing to do with his having to catch his breath from his sprint across the room. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Peggy studied his face, her brow furrowed with confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, probably to question him further, but he cut her off with a raised hand.

“Please,” he said, hating how he was acting towards her, the quaver in his voice, the way it sounded like he was begging her for mercy. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.” Peggy frowned, concern etched in every line of her face, but nodded and followed him into the kitchen. During the tense, silent meal that followed, Steve spent more time avoiding Peggy’s eyes than actually eating. He noticed her gaze slide sideways, and knew that she’d seen the drawing on the wall above the sink, laminated with tape so as to prevent it from getting wet. If he was grateful for one thing, it was that she hadn’t seen the ones in the hallway, or in his bedroom, or in any of the other dozen places they were hung throughout the apartment- yet. For the first time, he was seeing those drawings from an outsider’s perspective, and he didn’t like what they said about him.

“I’ve got to go,” Peggy finally said, setting down her empty bowl and standing up. “They’ll be expecting me back at work.” Steve nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Thank you for this,” Pegg went on, leaning down to give him a kiss goodbye. “It was...nice.” Her hesitation indicated that it had been something other than nice, but Steve didn’t really want to pry further into that. When she was gone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d taken some part of him with her, namely his dignity.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky’s voice asked, some hours later.

“We can’t have these drawings up anymore,” Steve said without turning around, pulling one of the drawings in question off the wall and dropping it in the box at his feet. “They’re gonna give people the wrong impression.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky demanded, stepping within the field of Steve’s peripheral vision. “And what impression is that?”

“That I have an unnatural obsession with my dead mother,” Steve replied, his voice lacking any sort of inflection.

“Damn it Steve, knock it off,” Bucky snapped, stepping between him and the wall, blocking his way to the next drawing he’d been about to take down. “What’s gotten into you? You never cared what people thought of these before.” Steve didn’t answer.

“Come on,” Bucky prodded. Steve sighed.

“I...had Peggy over for lunch,” he said, breaking his silence. “She saw Mom’s ring on the bookshelf”-he gestured back toward the living room- “and instead of asking her not to touch it, I basically just threw myself between her and it.”

“Okay, that was an overreaction, I’ll admit,” Bucky said, “but that still doesn’t explain your sudden concern with appearances.”

“Peggy saw the drawings in the kitchen,” Steve explained, “and for the first time, I saw them from an outsider’s perspective, and I don’t like what they say about me.”

“Instead of freaking out and taking them all down,” Bucky said, picking the box up from the floor and putting the drawings in it back in place, “why don’t you just call Peggy or something and explain them to her? I’m sure the only reason things felt so uncomfortable is because you freaked out on her with no apparent provocation. If she knew  _ why _ you reacted the way you did, she’d understand, I’m sure.”

“That’s...a good idea, actually,” Steve said after a moment of thought. “Thanks Buck.” He managed a smile. 

“Anytime,” Bucky replied. “You know that without me you’d be hopeless with women, right?”

“Of course,” Steve said. This line of conversation had sincerely brightened his mood. 

“Good,” Bucky replied. “Just so long as you’re aware. Now help me finish hanging these back up. They’re not going anywhere.”


	8. History Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I've been super busy with work and NaNoWriMo!

Peggy’s hand twitched. She resisted, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, the urge to pick up her phone and call Steve. She hadn’t heard from him in almost three days, which was troubling. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, and his continued silence left a tense, worried feeling in the pit of her stomach. It had been distracting her from work all day, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

_ Hey, are you okay? _ she wrote, tapping out a text message.  _ I haven’t heard from you in a few days, and I’m starting to worry. _

_ Yeah, I’m fine, _ came the reply a few minutes later.

_ Well, that’s a relief, I suppose, _ Peggy replied.  _ Why haven’t you been returning my calls? _

_ I needed some time to think, _ was Steve’s answer.

_ Do you want to talk about it? _ Peggy wrote. For the next several minutes Peggy’s phone sat stubbornly silent and still, its screen dark, making Peggy’s worry ratchet itself up to near panic. She was nearly about to give up when her phone finally made the noise that meant that she had a new text message, the screen glowing to life in accompaniment of the sound.

_ Yes _ , Steve had written.  _ But not over text message. This is something that needs to be explained in person. _

_ Alright _ , Peggy replied.  _ I have my lunch break in about an hour and a half. See you then? _

_ Yeah, sure _ , Steve wrote back. Peggy breathed a sigh of relief. Now, at least, she might have a chance of helping Steve through whatever his issue was. 

 

An hour and a half later, she had texted Steve to meet her at a place called Mockingbird Cafe. It wasn’t a proper teahouse, not really, but it was where she went when she was missing home. She hoped that the warm, homey atmosphere of the place would help Steve to feel relaxed. More importantly, in spite of all the time she spent there, it was neutral ground. It belonged as much to him as it did to her, as much as it did to any of its visitors, and thus belonged to neither of them. She had just settled in with her tea and her lunch when Steve dropped heavily into the empty chair across from her, which was plush enough that he sank down at least half an inch when he did. He straightened and fixed her with an intense stare, his blue-grey eyes dark and stormy. Peggy cleared her throat.

“So, what happened?” she asked. “What was it about your mother’s engagement ring that you were so desperate not to let me touch it or talk about it?” Concern made her pry much deeper than she normally would this early in a conversation.

“It’s a family heirloom,” Steve explained, his voice so quiet that Peggy had to lean in to hear him properly. “It’s been passed down through the men in my family, from mother to son, as far back as anyone can remember. It… was the last thing my mother gave me before she died.”

“So it’s painful?” Peggy supplied gently. Steve nodded.

“She died when I was eighteen,” he said. “You’d think I'd've moved on by now, but sometimes- most of the time, actually- those memories are still too painful to talk about, and anything that brings them to the surface feels like a knife in my heart.”

“I understand,” Peggy reassured him, trying for a smile, which he didn’t return. “I don’t imagine the death of a parent is something anyone ever completely gets over.”

“I just wish you could have known her, Peggy,” Steve said. “Known her the way I knew her, bright and beautiful and strong and  _ alive _ . Anything I could tell you about her pales in comparison.” Peggy took a thoughtful sip of her tea.

“What about those drawings?” she asked. “There was one framed on the shelf next to the ring, and I saw one in your kitchen. Are they of her?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice husky with emotion. “Before the serum, my memory wasn’t so great, and I was so terrified that I’d forget my own mother’s face that I drew her obsessively so that there’d be no chance that I’d ever forget her. It wasn’t until after the fact that I realized that it had helped me process my grief.”

“Bucky’s the one who hung them up,” he added before Peggy could ask. She nodded.

“So that’s why you were so on edge,” she said carefully, to make sure she had the right of it. “Because I’d dredged up painful memories that you would have rather not thought about. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Steve said. “You didn’t know. And part of it was also because I knew that you’d seen the drawing in the kitchen and I was worried what you’d think of them- and, by extension,  of me.”

“What do you mean?” Peggy asked. 

“Well, it’s embarrassing with hindsight,” Steve said, cheeks reddening, “but I was afraid that they’d make you think that I had some weird, unhealthy obsession with my dead mother.”

“How could they? I’d only seen two of them,” Peggy told him, though gently. “Besides, when you made them, you were eighteen and had just lost your mother. You were coping with your grief in the best way you knew how. There’s nothing weird or unhealthy or shameful about that.” Steve smiled at her then, a small smile, tinged at the edges with the worry that still refused to completely dissipate. 

“You know, all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided if you’d just explained everything to me from the outset,” Peggy admonished gently.

“I know,” Steve replied sheepishly. “Thank you for being so patient and understanding with me. I really needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” Peggy said. “Just know that I will always be there for you when you need me.” It may not have been a promise that she needed to make, considering it was pretty much the unofficial soulmate job description, but she still felt it needed to be said. Steve nodded his understanding, and Peggy took a moment to revel in the feeling of being closer to him than ever. She much preffered it when they were moving forward with their relationship rather than back.


	9. Interlude Two- Thorns and English Roses

Steve was carrying an orchid in a heavy terra cotta pot when he felt a burning pain winding its way around his left wrist. Luckily, his mother had prepared him for this, and he managed not to drop it. He would have hated to have to explain the incident to Mrs. Barnes. Bucky raised an eyebrow, noticing the way he ever so slightly adjusted his grip on the pot, but said nothing. 

By the time Steve went on his lunch break, several hours later, the pain in his wrist had dissipated, fading from that initial sharp, burning pain to a dull ache and finally to a strange sort of tingle before disappearing entirely. As soon as he’d gotten a spare moment, he’d stripped off his gardening gloves and taken a good long look at his first soulmate mark. A design of thorny vines and roses was now curling its way around his left wrist, encircling it in a closed loop. He pulled out his notebook and sketched it quickly, intending to consult with Mrs. Barnes later to determine what kind of roses were now inscribed on his skin. For the past two years, he had spent his summers, afternoons, and weekends working in Mrs. Barnes’ flower shop alongside Bucky and Rebecca, which kept him busy and- according to his mother- out of trouble- but Mrs. Barnes had years of experience that he didn’t have, and for as long as he’d known her she’d had a particular knack for differentiating between different types of roses.

“All right,” Bucky demanded loudly, bursting suddenly into the earthy smelling break room and startling Steve with the abruptness of his arrival. He brought with him the pleasant hum of business going on as usual in the main part of the shop for a brief moment before the door swung shut behind him, enveloping them in silence. “Let’s see it.”

“What?” Steve asked, still trying to collect his unexpectedly scattered thoughts.

“Your soulmate mark,” Bucky elaborated. “I know that’s what you almost dropping that pot was about. So, let’s see it.” Steve wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to show him, but he had that look in his eyes that meant that nothing could steer him from his current course. He sighed and pushed up the sleeve of his too-big sweater, baring the mark on his wrist for Bucky’s examination.

“What do you think this says about your soulmate?” Bucky asked after studying it for a moment. Steve’s bony shoulders lifted slightly in the barest suggestion of a shrug.

“I dunno,” he said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably that they’re beautiful, but also dangerous if you treat them wrong.”

“How d’you figure?” Bucky asked, sliding into one of the empty chairs across the table from Steve.

“Well, I mean,” Steve explained hesitantly, unsure if his thought process made sense, “roses are beautiful, but if you handle them wrong you get pricked by thorns.” With another shrug, he added, “It just sort of makes sense.” If he sounded just  _ slightly _ defensive, Bucky didn’t comment on it.

“Well I suppose I can’t argue with that analysis,” he said instead, “but what happens if when you finally meet your soulmate your theories about them turn out to be wrong?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said with a conviction that surprised him. “I’m sure I’ll love them no matter what, whoever they are.” For some reason, that made Bucky frown.

“I wish I shared your confidence,” he muttered. It made Steve wonder what sort of things he’d speculated about his soulmate, and whether he hoped those things turned out to be true or feared that they would be.


End file.
